


I don't ever wanna leave you

by AndalusianSunshine



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Pining, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29003946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndalusianSunshine/pseuds/AndalusianSunshine
Summary: There's a snow storm raging over Spain, Sergio is on his way to Pamplona and Gerard is worried. So worried that he can barely focus on anything but his phone.The only problem is ... he doesn't really have any right to worry. They're not teammates anymore. They're barely even friends. Sometimes they fuck, sure, but that's it. No emotions, no strings, no nothing.If only Gerard could stop thinking about Sergio. If only he didn't want so much more.
Relationships: Gerard Piqué/Sergio Ramos
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	I don't ever wanna leave you

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place the weekend of January 9th, 2021. Real Madrid had to play an away game against Osasuna while there was a pretty bad snowstorm going on over most of Spain. Because of the heavy snowfall they were stuck on the plane for almost four hours before they could finally take off and then had to play their match under less than optimal conditions (The match ended in a goalless draw). With the airport still closed in Madrid the next day, they were stuck in Pamplona for most of the weekend until the club finally decided on Monday to fly straight to Malaga for their Supercopa match two days later.
> 
> Meanwhile Barcelona easily won their own away game against Granada (without snow involved) just a few hours before Real Madrid had to play their game.
> 
> Title borrowed from _All the way_ by Wet

A resounding victory. Gerard barely remembers how it feels, the joy and happiness, the sense of accomplishment, even if he didn’t actually get to play because of his injury. It definitely warrants an impromptu celebration. Even if it’s just him and Jordi at Leo’s house because well it’s still the middle of a pandemic and the snow outside isn’t helping either.

He glances at his phone, desperate for a reply he knows won’t be there, just like five minutes ago or the countless times he checked before. Yet he still opens Whatsapp and clicks on Sergio’s name, feels his heart sink in disappointment when there’s nothing but his own message taunting him, still not even read after almost a day.

 _You’re still going to travel???_ \- sent at 20:22

He’d sent the message yesterday evening, right after he’d seen the video of the Real Madrid players boarding their plane and it’s not like he’s been actively seeking out their social media. It’s not his fault, when his accounts keep insisting he follow Real Madrid, when they keep inserting random videos into his feed, just because he follows some of their players. It’s ridiculous and annoying and he really wishes it would just stop.

Still, he was worried. He’s seen the pictures from Madrid, the snowstorm and the state of the roads, found himself more than a little surprised when they still attempted to travel in all of this, when the match wasn’t officially cancelled and without Sergio’s reply he’d spent most of the night checking twitter and various news sources about the state of their journey. His stomach tied in nervous knots when after four hours of wait, just before eleven, they’d very surprisingly taken off after all and he’d only been able to go to sleep when he’d gotten confirmation that they’d arrived safely at their hotel.

If he’s honest with himself he’s still worried. More than a little even. He knows they made it to the stadium safely, with kick off just a few minutes away now and the field in surprisingly good conditions for this kind of weather, but how are they going to make it back to the hotel with the snowfall steadily increasing in Pamplona? How will they get back home with the airport in Madrid still closed and the city drowning in white?

Is this what football has come down to now? Putting players at risk for a few hours of entertainment and then mercilessly dragging them when they don’t perform as expected? It makes him equally angry and sad.

“What are you scowling about?”

Gerard almost jumps out of his seat when Jordi suddenly appears behind him, pulls him out of his thoughts abruptly. “Nothing,” he mumbles. “Can you believe the Osasuna match is actually happening?”

Jordi shrugs, leans over to glance at Gerard’s phone. “Who are you texting?”

“Sergio.”

“Ramos?”

Gerard nods.

“Why?” Jordi rounds the sofa and hands him a bottle of water, sits down in the armchair across from him.

“I was worried,” Gerard makes a vague gesture with his hand. “I can’t believe they made them fly in this weather.”

“Didn’t know you were still this close,” Jordi hums thoughtfully. “I thought this thing between you ended years ago?”

Gerard looks down at his hands, feels a blush creep up his cheeks and he still regrets telling Jordi about Sergio and him, about the time they slept together, the night after they won the Euros. It only takes him a short moment to get his expression back under control, but of course Jordi notices. He’d forgotten how perceptive he could be.

“Wait,” Jordi’s face lights up with glee. “Are you guys still a thing?”

“We’re not a thing,” Gerard rolls his eyes. “We hook up sometimes, when it’s convenient. It’s not like either of us can just go out and pick up guys. That’s all it is.”

Jordi cocks his head to the side. “You’re awfully worried about someone you insist you don’t care about.”

“He’s a friend. Of course I care,” Gerard sighs exasperatedly. “I’d be worried too if it was you.”

“Fine,” Jordi lifts his hands in defeat, but Gerard can see it in his eyes that he’s not at all convinced. “Let me ask you a different question then. What’s your opinion on his current beard?”

Gerard frowns. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Just answer the question,” Jordi grins mirthfully, fingers drumming impatiently on his thigh.

Gerard shrugs. Maybe it’s a bit too long at the moment, a bit too unruly and messy, but in a weird way Sergio pulls off the whole look, especially with the long hair. He’s always loved him with long hair. “I kinda like it. I think it it suits him.”

“Oh God, you’ve got it bad,” Jordi chuckles. “It looks completely hideous and you know it. Just call him already and tell him you love him.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Gerard grumbles.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Jordi heaves himself to his feet. “But you should still call him and tell him you were worried,” he says before he walks away. 

Gerard doesn’t call him, stares at his phone for a while before he types out a message instead.

 _Be safe_

He hits send before he can change his mind, puts his phone in his pocket and wanders over to Jordi and Leo, distracts himself with video games for the rest of the night.

The next time he checks his phone, it’s already after midnight, Madrid’s match ended in a goalless draw and there’s a missed call from Sergio. 

He spends half of the night hating himself for ignoring his phone and missing Sergio’s call, the other half wondering if he should just call him back, but it’s late and Gerard knows they stayed overnight in Pamplona and after the ordeal of the last two days, Sergio clearly deserves some much needed rest, especially when Gerard wouldn’t even know what to say anyway.

He sends another text the next morning during breakfast. 

_When are you going back to Madrid?_

Almost drops his phone into his cereal when it rings barely a minute later, Sergio’s name flashing bright and bold across his screen.

“Yeah?” he answers a little hesitantly, feels his heart speed up when the camera symbol blinks and Sergio’s face swims into view. He’s not sure if he’s ready for the intimacy of a video call with Sergio this early in the morning or ever if he’s completely honest with himself.

“What’s up with you suddenly texting me all the time?” Sergio frowns at the camera, but all Gerard can focus on is Sergio’s naked chest, the firm planes of muscle covered in ink and of course there’s a few new ones, right below the collar bone, the images just a bit too blurry for Gerard to properly make them out and it sends a sharp sting to his heart, that he has no way of knowing when he’s gotten them, what they mean or how he’d chosen them. It’s like he is a complete stranger to this part of Sergio’s life and it hurts.

“Aren’t you cold?” he blurts out before the silence can get even more uncomfortable. Instantly feels stupid.

“What?”

Gerard forces a laugh, hopes it doesn’t come out too awkward. “It’s the middle of a snowstorm and you’re sitting there without a shirt.”

“You do realize i’m in a hotel room and not outside, right?” Sergio rolls his eyes.

“Whatever.”

Sergio smirks knowingly. “If i didn’t know any better, i’d think you’re actually concerned.”

“Dream on,” Gerard teases, but he’s never been more glad for his beard covering his cheeks, because he’s sure they’re a little too red to be inconspicuous. “So what are your plans for today?”

“Not sure,” Sergio shrugs, leans back on something that looks suspiciously like a hotel bed, the crisp white sheets invitingly soft and rumpled “They wanna try to catch a flight back to Madrid tonight, but until then i’m stuck in this room.”

“How about i’ll distract you then?” Gerard hums thoughtfully, his chest tight with so much longing he can barely breathe and he’s not nearly ready yet to hang up the phone. “Got any good games on your phone?”

The airport in Madrid is still closed the next day, Sergio is still stuck in Pamplona and Gerard is no less worried. He’s just about to text him again, even if he’s very quickly running out of good excuses when a quick glance at his twitter feed informs him that Real Madrid will be flying straight to Malaga for their Supercopa match and if that isn’t the perfect coincidence, when Gerard is already on his way to Granada to support his own team in their match.

The drive from Granada to Malaga is what, just about an hour, just short enough not to look too suspicious when he suddenly shows up at Sergio’s hotel. 

A few quick phone calls later, he’s got everything in place.

It’s fairly easy sneaking into the hotel, with his mask and the hood pulled up no one even spares him a second glance. Figuring out Sergio’s room number however proves infinitely more difficult. 

In the end it takes one very embarrassing phone call to Lucas, a convoluted excuse and lots of sweet talking, but then finally he’s in front of a nondescript wooden door on the 3rd floor, desperately hoping Lucas didn’t prank him as he raises his hand to knock.

For the longest time nothing happens, just mocking silence and Gerard awkwardly standing in a deserted corridor hoping no one will discover him and he already fears Sergio might not even be there when he finally hears the soft sound of footsteps shuffling closer, the door being ripped open to reveal a disgruntled looking Sergio, hair still damp and haphazardly tucked behind his ears, hair tie around his wrist, like he just came out of the shower.

He stills abruptly when he spots Gerard on the other side of his door, looks him up and down in confusion, blinking like he’s not quite sure if he’s seeing things. “I’m not in the mood for a booty call,” he says eventually, voice tired, steps aside to let Gerard pass anyway.

“That’s not why i’m here,” Gerard follows him into the room, looks around, so he doesn’t have to meet Sergio’s inquisitive glare.

“Why are you here then?” Sergio’s gaze drops down to the brace around his knee and Gerard flinches at the look of pity in his eyes. “Should you even be walking around on your knee? What about your treatment?”

“I’m fine. It’s just an injury,” Gerard closes the door a little more forcefully than necessary. “And the treatment is going fine. Thanks for asking. Didn’t know you cared that much.”

“No need to snap at me like that,” Sergio sighs tiredly, runs his fingers through his hair. “Can’t i be worried about you?” 

“Yeah well I was worried about you too. There’s a freaking snowstorm going on out there and you’ve been stuck in a hotel all weekend,” he makes a vague gesture with his hands. “I figured you might be too busy dealing with the Supercopa, so i took care of some things for you .... so you wouldn’t have to…,” he trails off with a shrug.

Sergio frowns. “What does that even mean?”

“Nothing much, just..,” he almost laughs at the scowl on Sergio’s face and maybe he should have expected his prickly attitude. It’s not like he doesn’t have abundant experience with Sergio’s inability to accept help of any kind. “I got someone to take care of your dogs for you.” 

“Yeah, that’s not creepy at all,” Sergio laughs humorlessly. “How’d you even get into my house.”

“You gave me your security code,” Gerard frowns and he hates how they’re still standing right next to the door, like Sergio is gonna shove him out again any minute. “Remember the last time you wanted a late night fuck but couldn’t even be bothered to open the door for me?” 

“Oh right,” Sergio mumbles embarrassedly, his ears going a faint shade of pink and Gerard really shouldn’t find it as adorable as he does. “I forgot.”

Gerard ignores him, tries not to let the words get to him too much. He holds up the bag he’s been carrying all this time. “I also brought you some spare clothes, figured you might run out eventually.”

“The club already got us fresh clothes.”

“Jesus,” Gerard sighs exasperatedly. “Can’t you just this once take some fucking help. Why do you always have to be like that?”

Sergio glares at him, angrily brushes a wayward strand of hair out of his face. “Why are you suddenly acting like my boyfriend?” he snaps.

“I’m…,” Gerard starts, but doesn’t really know what to say to that, not when Sergio’s words are hitting a little too close to home, his cheeks suddenly treacherously hot.

“Oh God,” Sergio turns and starts pacing the room, resolutely avoiding eye contact. “Lucas was actually right. This got to be a joke.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Sergio stops abruptly, looks up at Gerard through narrowed eyes. “He said you have feelings for me. I thought he was trying to mess with me.”

“You told him about us?”

Sergio rolls his eyes. “It’s not like there was much left to tell after he walked in on us fucking.”

Gerard shudders at the memory, still can’t believe how close they came to everything crumbling to pieces, just because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other and thank god it was just a teammate who walked in on them. He doesn’t even want to imagine the repercussions had it been someone else. “Never would have happened if you’d just been patient enough to get somewhere more private.”

“If i remember correctly, i wasn’t the only one who couldn’t keep it in his pants,” Sergio huffs out an annoyed breath. “But you’re completely missing the point here. Stop changing the subject.”

“And what exactly is the point?”

“Do you have feelings for me?” Sergio asks, his gaze challenging, his posture tense.

“And what if I do?” Gerard forces himself to uncross his arms, hates how defensive it makes him look, shoves his hands into his pockets instead. “Would it be so bad? If we actually started dating properly?”

Sergio raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “How would that even work?”

“I have no idea,” Gerard shrugs. “Never said I had all the answers, but this thing between us, it’s been going on for years. Do you really think it’s just been about sex all this time?” He allows himself a little smirk. “You’re good, but you’re not that good.”

“Not fair,” Sergio grins despite himself and it’s the first real smile Sergio has given him since he opened the door. 

It makes Gerard’s heart pathetically soft. “You know i’m right,” he says. “I haven’t seen you properly date someone in ages.”

“That’s because no one’s held my interest for long enough,” Sergio shrugs and the _except for you_ goes unsaid. But it’s there, in the look in Sergio’s eyes and the way his posture softens.

“So let’s at least try. Don’t you think we owe ourselves that?” He steps closer towards Sergio, puts his hands on his waist. “Tell me you’ve never thought of us together and I'll stop pushing.”

“I just never thought it was actually a possibility,” there’s a tremble in Sergio’s voice and instead of pulling away he leans closer into Gerard’s touch and Gerard knows it’s as much of a confession as he’s ever going to get. “You know it’s going to be a complete nightmare though, right? We’d have to hide all the time,” he adds quietly, almost sadly. “What if it’s not enough?”

“So?” Gerard shrugs. “It’s not like it’s any different now. We both know what we’re getting ourselves into. Since when do you suddenly need a plan for everything?” He flinches when Sergio’s hands suddenly land on his waist, pinching him in the sides before they smooth out and creep under the hem of his shirt. “Ouch.”

“Serves you right,” Segio grins lopsidedly. “And i don’t, just not sure how this is supposed to work,” he shrugs.

“Me neither,” Gerard pulls him closer, feels his heart swell when Sergio leans his weight into him. “But we’ll never know if we don’t try.”

Sergio laughs softly. “Why does this feel like we’re negotiating a contract?”

“I’ll remember to bring roses and champagne next time,” Gerard chuckles before he leans down to kiss him.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Sergio whispers against his lips, presses closer to deepen the kiss.

They spend the rest of the night talking, laughing, making out on the bed like a couple of teenagers and Gerard takes it as a good sign, when Sergio lets him spend the night instead of kicking him out, when he burrows his face against his chest before they fall asleep.

"You know i could get used to this."

Gerard wakes to the sleepy rumbles of Sergio's voice, to the view of his warm brown eyes just inches from his own, his body half draped over Gerard's and it would be very close to perfection if there wasn't a painful tingling in his leg.

"Sergio, my leg is numb," he groans, shifting him until he's lying properly on top of him, Sergio's legs now slotted comfortably between his own.

“Sorry,” Sergio whispers, but instead of pulling away he only snuggles closer, face buried against the slope of Gerard’s neck.

It makes Gerard laugh. “If i’d known i’d get you with cuddles i would have tried much sooner.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sergio blinks up at him innocently, but the corners of his mouth are already twitching with a barely held in smile.

“Don’t even try, tough guy,” Gerard grins and threads his hands into Sergio’s hair, plays with the soft strands. “No more hiding anymore. Just admit you love to cuddle.”

“Fine whatever,” Sergio sighs happily. “Does this mean i have to support your stupid club now?” he asks, voice full of mischief.

“Are you going to wear my jersey then?” Gerard chuckles.

“Are you?” 

Gerard grimaces. “Never gonna happen.”

“That’s too bad,” Sergio smirks. “My name would look so good on you.”

“You’re impossible,” Gerard groans, but he can’t really keep the affection out of his voice, can’t stop himself from pulling Sergio down into a lazy kiss.

“I’m just glad I get to call you now, whenever I miss you,” he admits when they pull apart again. “Kinda sucked that i always need to come up with some dumb excuse before.”

“Did you just admit to missing me?” there’s an annoyingly pleased smirk on Sergio’s face and Gerard hates how much he doesn’t hate it. “Do tell me more please,” he grins.

“I actually do,” Gerard laughs softly, wraps his arms around Sergio before he leans up to kiss him again. “There must be something seriously wrong with me.”


End file.
